All the Pretty Little Horses
by Dannemund
Summary: Courier Van is a fraidy-cat, but she's no coward. Traveling through the wastes with Boone or Raul isn't easy, but she knows she's awesome enough to handle it... if she can stop being afraid of thunderstorms. (Rated M for content, swearing.)
1. A Dark and Stormy Night

Note: I wrote this for fun but it's panning out a little bit. I'd rather finish FCC but for the meanwhile, here's some other Boone.

* * *

"It was a dark and stormy night."

Van scoffed, looking up at Raul from her position on the floor of the Jacobstown lodge. She rolled her eyes at him, at the ridiculous way he'd spoken. The ghoul chuckled and leaned backward onto the couch, staring out the window of the fireplace room, tired eyes watching the pattering of rain on the glass. "You said you wanted a story, boss. You didn't say a _good_ one."

"Not a scary one," Van said, stretching herself out onto her stomach and placing her hands under her chin. "I don't like scary stories."

Raul smiled, absently. "You scare too easily."

"I do _not!"_ she said, defensively.

He considered her for a moment. "How do you survive the wastes," he said, teasing her gently. "If you're scared of everything? The other day you damn near peed yourself over a broken stick."

Van remembered. Raul had stepped on a stick and she'd jumped about three feet into the air, and he hadn't let her live it down since. The whole of it made her annoyed as hell and defensive, and it only got worse when others picked on her about it.

Her face turned bright red in the light of the lamps, illuminating the sitting area with a warm glow. "I bet it's because I'm so badass," she shot back. Raul laughed at her. "What, I totally am! I'm about as badass as it gets, out here! How many people do you know who survived a shot to the head like I did!?"

"I'll believe that when you stop being scared of the dark, boss."

Van pouted, looking down at her hands. She knew it was silly. Couldn't help it, though. Ever since she woke up in Doc Mitchell's house, she'd been scared of the dark. Scared of so many other things, too, she wondered why. She _was_ badass, though. Had risen up from the damn desert and went out looking for that bastard that shot her, killed him. She'd survived this long to get her revenge, hadn't she?

She made a pistol finger and popped an imaginary shot off at Raul, trying to make herself feel better about the situation. Raul ignored her, blinking phlegmy eyes at the lamp.

They were stuck in the lodge until the seasonal thunderstorm passed by. It wouldn't have bothered her nearly as much if Marcus hadn't warned them that this kind of storm lent to flash floods, and Raul concurred.

Van was not content to wait about, but nature had forced her hand. Already all the snow in the settlement had melted with this onslaught. Marcus had given them permission to stay until the storm was over. Courier Six and her companions were hanging out near the old fireplace and Van was getting irritated from having nothing to do.

She'd come up to Jacobstown in order to collect Rex. Part of the job she was doing in Vegas, working with the Kings to make things better in Freeside. The cyberdog was lying on the floor next to her, having a doggy dream, kicking a leg out jerkily. Van put her arm around his side and buried her face in what fur he had left, smelling the leftover residue from the biogel used to replace his brain.

"Ugh, Rex, maybe you should go outside, you stink." She coughed and turned her head away.

"Nah, boss, it'll get worse. You ever smelled a wet dog?" Raul put his foot up on his knee and gave her a look.

"No, actually," Van said, running a hand along Rex's brain case and staring at the activity within. "Never had a dog before."

"Trust me on this one, then. You let him outside... _crí a cuervos y te sacaran los ojos."_ Raul chuckled at her expression. "You reap what you sow, boss," he explained.

Van rolled her eyes and looked over at the other end of the couch, turning onto her side and staring at Boone. Raul had been waiting at the lodge for Van to return from her errands, so she'd brought Boone along from Vegas.

Wasn't keen on being headbutted by those stupid bighorners up in the mountain. Not to mention the damn cazadores 'round the place. Boone was a hell of a shot, but he never wanted to chat. Ice cold. Sharp like the edge of a knife. Van was intimidated by him.

She'd wanted to send him back to the Lucky 38, or back to Novac, because she would probably be down there at some point in the near future to pick him up, but with the storm... now they were stuck with his sparkling personality until the rain stopped.

"You know any stories, Boone?" she asked, even though it was futile.

The sniper was sitting on the couch in such a tense position she wondered how he wasn't sore all the time. Muscles rigid and stock-still. He didn't reply, didn't even look at her. Van sighed, turned herself to stare out the window for a moment.

Abruptly, she flopped onto her back and wiggled her arms in the air, making a frustrated and stupid noise. Rex jerked awake, pushing himself up from the floor. He looked down at her with a passive stare, then moved onto the couch with Raul and placed his head into the ghoul's lap. Van kept the motion up for a moment, then dropped her arms and stared down the cyberdog. "Traitor," she muttered.

Raul laughed. "Patience, boss."

"I'm utterly bored, Raul," Van said, looking up at his pale eyes with her dark ones. "There's nothing to do, no magazines to read, no stories to listen to."

Raul patted Rex's head and stared out the window again. "There's always something, boss. Just have to find it."

Van rolled over the floor and up into a standing position, fists at the ready, punching the air a few times. "I can't think of anything," she whined. "And Rex won't even hang out with me. It's very, very, very boring!"

"You could learn to relax," Raul said. "Take a nap, boss. Rex just had major surgery. If you had, you'd be pretty out of it, too."

Van scoffed again. Like she hadn't been shot in the head. Sometimes she wondered just how much Raul actually believed about her, from what she'd told him. "I guess I'll have to go explore the lodge." She cracked her neck, punched the air again, and dropped her arms. "C'mon, Boone. It'll be boring either way. Let's stretch our legs."

The sniper stood and followed her out of the room, walking quietly behind her as she went up the stairs.

* * *

Jacobstown's lodge wasn't what she'd expected, when she'd first come up the road. All the Super Mutants were a surprise, but the snow and the trees―well, she hadn't thought a place like this could exist, in the wastes. It was almost idyllic, settled into the old crater, with a peaceful backdrop and relatively little threat.

The lodge itself was a little too dark for Van's liking. Raul was right... she was on edge, probably more so because of his easy-going taunting.

She felt her nerves fraying, as she walked along the hallway rattling doorknobs and grumbling under her breath. She looked into the rooms that were open, feeling the traitorous unsteady flutter of her heart. "God, this so _boring."_ She opened another door. "There's nothing―"

A strange noise caught her attention from inside. Van looked around the room carefully, then out into the hallway. Sounded like a sharp whining, a little like Rex when he wanted something. Boone stared at her, his eyes hidden behind the sunglasses he always wore.

"Thought I heard someth―" she stopped. There it was again, a wailing noise like something spooky in the room. Van let go of the doorknob, shakily walking to the window. She rubbed the glass with her sleeve and stared out of it.

The rain was heavy enough she couldn't make out very much, and the trees so thick out there it really just looked like a bunch of green and gray blobs outlined by the occasional flash of lightning. Van sighed and peered out through the pane, her hands hooded over her eyes.

Nothing. Just... nothing. The sound was gone. She turned back to Boone and screwed up her face. "I guess we'll just go back down and camp out―"

Something impacted the window behind her. Van shrieked and spun around, backing herself up in a quick step. Boone was in the path of the movement, grunted when she threw herself backward into him. Van looked up at him and took a step to the right, her heart thumping in fright.

The window was empty. Van's heart raced harder against her ribs. "What the hell was that?" she asked, putting a palm onto her chest.

"Didn't see anything," Boone said, tonelessly.

"But you _heard_ that, right?"

"Heard what?"

Van's dark green eyes went wide. "You didn't hear something hit the window?"

Boone looked down at her like she'd gone crazy, and shook his head. Van gaped and breathed a little quicker. "I'm going back," she announced, turning around and walking past him. Boone went to follow, muttering something under his breath.

Another sharp thump against the window, and Van jerked to look―but there was nothing there―and she fought her heartbeat, trying to keep herself calm. What the hell was it? Her eyes were as wide as they could go, watching the window.

Boone coughed lightly as he took up position behind her, his eyes boring into her head. Van stood, frozen in place, her eyes on the grimy glass. Fear ran cold through her veins. Wished she didn't get scared like that. It was so stupid, _god!_

Some large black thing smacked into the window and Van shrieked, propelling herself into the door. Boone had closed it when he came in―the knob rattled uselessly under her hand, her eyes widening in a panic. She must've said something, her throat vibrated with fear, but all that came out of her was an incomprehensible whimper.

She screamed when the lights cut out, freezing in place again. When she was able to move her hands clutched at the nearest available thing, which turned out to be a surly and not at all amused sniper. Van cursed herself, feeling Boone startle as she tangled herself into him―

"Stop that," he said, trying to pry her hands off his arms.

Van let out a frightened noise and held on as tightly as she could. "Oh, my God," she whined. "Oh, my God, _oh my―"_

"Calm down, Van." She lost her balance, but Boone steadied her. His hand grabbed her shoulder painfully. "It's just a power outage."

She whimpered and looked about blindly, trying to get her eyes to adjust to the dark. Boone grumbled a little, grabbing at her fingers on his jacket. A crash of thunder in the distance made her jump, her hands jerking away from him and going to her chest.

Another thump on the window. Van's heart exploded in her chest, as she clutched at Boone again in the darkness. She'd―

She'd peed herself. Oh, God, she'd gone and finally _done_ it. Her face burned terribly in the black room, hoping Boone hadn't noticed.

 _Dammit!_ Thank God he couldn't see her face as she flushed violently, mostly in shame. A warm sensation flooded into her shoes, and she fought the urge to groan. Why did she have to act so stupid? Van closed her eyes and bit her lip in fear and guilt.

"Will you please let me go?" Boone asked, annoyed.

Her hands were caught in his shirt, somehow. She didn't realize she'd been that close to him, removed them immediately. By now her face must be flooded with blood. Van breathed out, a small noise escaping her throat.

She breathed evenly, trying to calm herself, feeling liquid spreading through the cloth of her pants. She'd have to wait for the lights to come back on before dashing off to change―and Raul would be so full of himself when he heard about this one―she gritted her teeth and willed her heart to stop beating so fast.

"The door is locked," she said. She hated to admit it, but her voice was trembling more than her body was.

Boone moved away, his actions immediately apparent by his own stifled curse and a shoulder slamming into the wood with a loud shudder. After a moment more of the rattling of the knob, he breathed out noisily. "Shit," he muttered.

Van's eyes started to adjust to the darkness. That meant Boone's eyes already _had,_ and if he hadn't smelled the product of her fear he would see it soon. Van moved into the corner away from the window, to the right of the door, and leaned on the wall. Tried to figure out what to do―damn her bladder!

"Can't you pick it?" he asked, his normally quiet voice loud in the stillness of the room.

"No," she answered, feeling her heart sinking. "I... I never figured it out. Besides, I don't have any bobby pins." She crossed her legs over one another and felt cold. What had seeped into her jeans was now cooling off, chafing against her skin. She closed her eyes and crossed her arms over her chest and made a face.

"Shit," Boone said again, moving to and kicking the door. It shivered in the frame but held solid. They were stuck until someone noticed them, unless...

"I―" Van shuddered again. "Guess we'll have to yell for help." God, and then everyone would see that _she'd_ ―she winced.

Boone made a noise. Van's eyes popped open, looking sideways at him. "Don't think you want to do that," he replied. He turned to face her, in the darkness.

"That's dumb, why not," she shot back. This was the most chatty he'd been since she helped him in Novac. Made her wonder what was going on.

She could feel the heat coming off his body as he moved closer to her, a solid wall of muscles towering over her in the dark. A monster, looming over her. Her imagination would run wild with those thoughts if she let it and she didn't want to, but...

She shuddered, involuntarily. _Dammit!_

"Yeah," Boone said, his voice taking on a fraction of emotion in that he sounded―dare she say it―like he was laughing at her. "Scared, again."

Van sighed in frustration. "I wish I could stop, but I can't, Boone. Okay? You guys _win._ I'm a fucking scaredy-cat. I went and _peed_ myself, finally. Go on and laugh, get it over with. _Christ!"_ She braced for impact, then.

Boone was quiet for a moment. "Did you, really?" he asked, curiously.

A faint scratching noise came from the window. She spun her head at it, eyes staring. "Goddammit," she hissed, her face on fire. "I did, _okay?!"_

It was very dark, even if her eyes were adjusting to it―damn her overactive imagination―Boone moved away from her, rustling in the dark, as she wondered how her head hadn't exploded from the sheer amount of blood flowing through her face. A light flared into existence, illuminating the room with an eerie glow. Van breathed a little faster, trying not to whimper.

"There," he said. She glanced over at the lantern, seeing his face lit up by the pale yellow light of the lantern. He _smiled_ at her, oddly enough. A quick grimace of a smile, but a smile nonetheless.

"You need to change your clothes."

"I know that," she muttered, tightening her arms across her chest. "Sheesh."

"We won't be here until you dry out." Boone moved across the room, pulling off his rifle and dropping it onto the bed. He considered a wardrobe for a moment, then opened the doors.

Van could only stand there, embarrassed as all hell, her face turning the color of a ripe apple and socks slowly absorbing what had traveled into her shoes.

"There isn't much else to do, is there?" she snapped. Her teeth ground against each other as she spoke. "What are you―why would you even―nnngh!"

Boone chuckled, dryly. "Not the first person to piss themselves out of fear," he said, quietly. He continued to look into the wardrobe, then shot her a glance over his shoulder. "Been there."

"Have you," she said, trying not to let her acidic tone soak into her like _other_ liquids were.

"Yeah," he muttered, reaching into the wardrobe and pulling something out.

"Seriously? I have a hard time imagi―" Van closed her mouth. It _was_ hard to imagine the sniper losing his calm composure as much as that. But... if he'd been that scared once, and turned into this? Maybe there was hope for _her,_ after all.

"First time I saw combat," he said. "Here." He moved to the corner and shoved something into her chest. She felt the cloth, realized it was clothing, and blinked in confusion.

"I―" she sighed. "Thanks, Boone, but I'll smell like―"

"I'll turn off the light," he said, tonelessly. Back to the cold attitude she was so used to. The lamp flickered, then shut off. Van made a small noise. The bed creaked, and she could see a shadow sitting on the edge of the mattress.

She'd―augh, she'd screwed it all up, right from the beginning. What she was seeing right now was a whole different side of Boone, a part of him she'd not known existed. All that had been, before, was the icy stare and clipped words.

This... friendly talking, she hoped, was a sign that Boone was opening up some. She would kill for him to be this nice on an average day. The man was so _difficult_ to understand.

Van moved her feet, kicking off the boots she'd not taken off in―gosh, probably five days, her feet must stink to high heaven―and lifted a foot to peel off her socks, awkwardly balancing the clothing under one arm. She changed as quickly as she could, throwing her pants to the side and hiking up the skirt over her clammy skin.

"Thanks," she whispered, leaning back against the wall. Boone grunted, scratching his head. The sound of his fingers against his scalp was strange in the quiet room.

The rain picked up again, hammering against the window. Van's eyes riveted to the glass, staring at it. What had been out there? What would even be skulking about the upper floor of Jacobstown lodge, at this time of night and in this weather?

"Cazadores," Boone commented, answering her unspoken question and startling her.

"...Yeah," she said, hearing the fear in her own voice. _Dammit, Van,_ she told herself. "Look, uh, you aren't going to tell Raul..."

"No," Boone said, shifting his weight. A light clatter told her he'd moved his rifle, and the creaking noises of the bed echoed through the room. "Going to sleep."

"Okay," Van whispered. "But thanks, Boone."

He only grunted again and laid down in the darkness, leaving her searching the room for something to occupy herself again.


	2. El Oso y el Oposum

If Raul noticed the smell, he said nothing. In fact, he went the complete _opposite_ route.

"Hey boss," he said, as the motley crew of people and one cyberdog set out from Jacobstown. The morning was bright and what rain had come was rapidly soaking into the ground or being evaporated back into the air. Van was shuffling along in her mostly dry shoes, still wearing the caravaneer skirt, and trying not to think about what happened.

They'd managed to escape the room after Marcus rumbled by the door, unlocking it for them when Van called out. Her face burned, remembering. Marcus knew she'd peed herself as soon as he ducked into the room, and his attitude about it had been much the same as Raul's would have been.

"What," she snapped, grumpily looking over at the ghoul.

He moved closer to her, away from Boone, and raised the skin over one eye. "Something happen last night?" he asked, cautiously.

Van's heart sank in her chest, then bounced up and hit her throat in a panic. "What do you mean?" she asked, trying not to sound nervous.

"You and _el oso_ were gone for a long time yesterday..." Raul scratched his nasion.

"I'm not sure I know what you mean," Van said, and this time her voice wobbled a little too much.

"You might be faint of heart, but I doubt you're that dumb, boss," he replied, dryly. "I wonder what went on, is all."

Oh, God. Van's face flushed bright red. That―that was actually _worse_ than the thought of him nagging at her for peeing herself! _"N-nothing,"_ she stammered, glancing at Boone and seeing his eyes stuck to her own like he'd rather be anywhere but where they were.

It wasn't unusual to see Boone like that. She gathered her wits about her and took a calming breath.

"Nothing." Raul moved slowly but he had always seemed tireless to her. Same as how he pestered her, never giving up. She supposed he had to be that way, or he'd have died long ago.

"It's not _that,"_ Van said, feeling less confident than she had. "The door accidentally locked and I ran out of bobby pins. Marcus had to let us out." She looked away from the men and at the mountains, her eyes peeled for Bighorners.

"Why the change of clothes, then?" Raul pressed, his voice somehow digging into her ears.

Van stared a hole in the nearest banana yucca until they passed it, her face a mask of embarrassed terror. Seriously? This was seriously happening? How did she―what should she say―

"She's flighty," Boone said, suddenly. The others turned their eyes onto him, including Rex. Boone gave a dismissive movement, scoffing slightly. "You know women."

Van colored violently. She never knew how to take things said by the man, and now this―this seemed like he was trying to _help_ her―

Was it too much to ask that he be consistent? Van groaned to herself. She couldn't figure out anyone, anymore. Maybe it was the bullet through the head. God, she hoped it was the bullet through the head. Boone's new attitude made her nervous as hell.

 _"¿Cómo no?"_ Raul said, looking at Boone with a strange expression. It was hard to tell what Raul meant, what with his ghoulified condition, but Van didn't think the look was a pleasant one. When he turned back to her, raising the skin above one eye, the look was gone.

"It was humid," Van sputtered. "I got hot, and the skirt helped. Shut up."

She expected him to pick on her about that, but for whatever reason Raul decided to leave it unanswered, staring thoughtfully off into the distance.

Van shot Boone a final distressed look before they continued along the road, toward Freeside. Boone didn't say a word, either.

The atmosphere remained that tense all the way into Freeside. Van had _no idea what to make of it._

* * *

The trip back through Freeside was no less baffling. Van sent Raul back up to the Lucky 38, mostly because she trusted him alone in the suite over Boone―who would almost certainly eat all her food, God forbid the man go hungry for even a moment―

Rex had been growling at Boone's beret, almost the whole trip. That was just as aggravating as the weird reversal of attitudes between the men, and Van was at her wit's end trying to figure out what was going on.

Boone seemed like he liked the cyberdog but was having little luck calming him down. He'd been talking under his breath, gentle words, and Van was surprised he bothered. Maybe... maybe Boone liked dogs, she didn't know. Hadn't ever asked.

Seemed like something she should fix. But Boone had that air of impressive intimidation about him, and she wasn't so sure she _wanted_ to poke at that cazador nest... not even if it was to satisfy her own curiosity.

Raul implied that she just wanted to be alone with the sniper. He made the accusation in a way that took her a moment to catch. She flushed a little, at the thought. It really seemed like he thought there was something going on...

"If you really want me to leave, boss, I will," Raul said, sounding tired. That much was normal for him, thank God.

"Just go!" Van shouted. "Get out of here, then. I'll see you back at the Lucky 38." She felt her nerves fraying, just trying to keep her temper in the tension.

Raul nodded and started ambling away. Boone glanced up from his crouch, down on the asphalt near Rex's level. "Easy, boy," he murmured.

Van turned to see Rex sniffing at Boone's hand with a low growl in his throat. "Is that smart?" she wondered. "We're about to drop him off. Can't get attached."

The sniper's mouth twitched. "Good dog," he said, shrugging a shoulder in the same way he had up on the mountain.

"Let's just get this over with, okay?" Van groaned.

He nodded and stood, glancing around briefly. Van made her way over to the Kings building, calling Rex to her side. Boone kept pace behind them, silently.

Inside the building, Van made a beeline for the theater door. She'd taken about five fast steps before she jumped out of her skin, shrieking incomprehensibly.

Pacer popped up out of _nowhere,_ shouting at her and scaring her. Van staggered back, hand to her heart and blinking rapidly.

"Too easy." The man grinned at her. "You're too much."

"God―you―" Van reconciled her fear with defensive anger, clenching her hands into fists and shaking slightly. _"You asshole!"_

Great, her easily frightened nature was all over Vegas, now―and these bastards would take advantage of that―

Boone moved past her, putting a hand out onto Pacer's face and pushing him away. "Come on, Van," he said, calmly, staring at the Kings member as he shoved him back with one hand.

She was too shocked to react, at first, but recovered and motioned Rex forward. They slipped into the theater with Boone right behind.

What just happened? Boone usually stayed in the background, never saying a word, and let her take all the hits. Why did he―she was confused. Why was he bothering to try to be friendly, so suddenly?

And why was Raul now the tense, terse one? He should have teased her mercilessly, before. Instead he was acting worried or something, shooting her and the sniper strange looks and being ice cold.

She wished she understood people better, sometimes. It was better to know than to wonder, even if it was something frightening. Like those stupid cazadores hitting the windows up in the lodge. After Boone had said that was what he thought it was, she wasn't half as scared.

Shaking her head, she approached The King's table and smiled sheepishly at him. Whatever was going on with Boone, she still wasn't sure she would figure out. But couldn't do anything about it, she supposed.

"Rex?" The King's face lit up with a smile. "You're looking better, boy." He rubbed the side of the cyberdog's face and grinned like a little boy. "Thanks, doll."

"No problem." Van nodded at him. "Rex is fine, but, uh... well, he's got a new brain. Dr. Henry said the problem was the brain itself wasn't working right."

"Still," The King replied, looking overjoyed to have the cyberdog back at his side, "you did good. Rex seems like he's taken to you, too. Listens real good, you know?"

Van smiled at Rex. "I never had a dog before," she told him. "But if I did have a dog, I'd want one like Rex. He's a pretty good dog."

She noticed Boone nodding out of the corner of her eye. That settled the matter, in her mind. He _must_ like dogs.

The King stilled his hand on Rex's fur, looking up at her with a thoughtful face. "Maybe you oughta take him," he said, slowly. "Sure he'd do better at your side than mine."

Van's mouth dropped. "I―" She glanced at Boone, who was watching Rex with a strange look on his face. "I don't know," she said. "He's got that thing about hats..."

"Hasn't been trouble," Boone commented, quietly. He glanced at Van, almost thoughtfully.

"...And I don't know how to take care of a dog," Van added, looking down.

"It ain't as hard as you'd imagine," The King said, amused. "Rex would do you some good, watching your back."

"Yeah, but―" Van scratched her head. "...I mean, he's your dog."

"Hate to say it, but everyone knows you scare real easy." The King sat back in his chair and considered her. "Rex would be helpful. Keep you safe."

Van stiffened, standing up straighter and staring at The King with narrowed eyes. "I don't rightly care what people say," she said, as meanly as she could. Her voice wavered slightly. "And I don't need a guard dog. No thank you, King."

Boone snorted. The King glanced at him quickly, then nodded at Van. "If that's your decision."

"It is," she said, turning and moving away. She made it as far as the lobby door before she stopped, sighed, and closed her eyes. God, she was so stupid. Felt like hitting herself, acting such a fool. She didn't like getting so scared―and having people point it out only made her feel worse―

She groaned, covering her face with a hand. She'd better apologize to The King. It wouldn't be good to have him angry at her. He might not like her _not_ taking Rex―even as a present―Van turned around and opened her eyes, intending to go back to The King and try to scrape her way out of the awkward situation.

She jumped again. Boone was standing directly behind her, looking down at her.

Her poor heart couldn't take much more. She fell back onto the door, reaching for the handle in her fright. Staring down the surly sniper, eyes wide and heart hammering against her rib cage, she felt even _more_ a fool. Van's breath caught in her throat as she stammered out an excuse.

She didn't actually say anything. It came out more as a _squeak._ Her face flushed with blood.

Boone's face was impassive. "You need to calm down," he said.

"I―I can't," she breathed, dropping her eyes to his chest. She took a deep breath, trying to calm herself, but knew it was futile.

Boone looked over his shoulder and back to her. "Why not?"

Van closed her eyes again. "I don't know," she muttered. Wiped her nose and blinked away the coming flood of tears. "I really don't."

He looked at the door over her head for a moment. His face was as blank as ever. Van's breathing slowed and she managed to get her heartbeat under control. Boone reached around her, quickly, and opened the door―the door Van that was leaning on―and she tumbled backward, her hands going out to catch the nearest thing―

Which, of course, was Boone. Van shrieked as she kept falling backward. She felt helpless and her face was wet with the tears now, something she barely noticed because―

Boone had her under one shoulder, lifting her up and propelling her out of the building, her feet never quite catching purpose on the sidewalk or asphalt as he bull rushed her across the road. Van collapsed outside of the Kings building in a shuddering heap of arms and legs, swiftly curling herself up into a ball.

"You don't know," Boone said, calmly.

She knew that tone. It was a tone that meant serious business. A disbelieving and bitter tone, one that Boone was _very_ good at giving. When she'd first met him, he'd been full of that bitterness...

Van buried her face in her knees, hiccuping and silently crying at the same time. At least he'd earned the right to be bitter. She couldn't say why she got scared! She―

"You don't know," he repeated.

"No!" she strangled out, squeezing her eyes shut.

She _didn't_ know why. There was no use in fighting, anymore. Couldn't make up something as an excuse, either, because she wasn't good at lying. And she'd have the strain of keeping up the lie―

"I got shot in the head," she said, breathlessly, the hiccups making her shake rhythmically. "That's all I remember, okay!"

She thought she heard a dogged sigh, but convinced herself that all she heard was silence.

...Unless you counted the curious sounds of passers-by and the general noise of Freeside. Van was suddenly aware that she was _cowering_ on the street under Boone's probably hostile glare. It was not at all a good situation for the Freesiders to see.

Her reputation was bad enough as it was! Van uncurled herself, pushing up off of the ground with trembling arms and wiping her face on dirtied sleeves, moving up toward Vegas. Didn't say a word, just left.

Boone stood in place for a moment before he moved to follow her, silently, onto the Strip.

* * *

"You look like you fought a dust devil, boss," Raul said to Van, as she walked out of the elevator. "And _lost,"_ he added, more quietly. He gave her a curious glance.

She ignored him, moving across the hallway and into the master suite. Slammed the door behind her, then leaned backward onto it and stared at the ceiling.

Crying like that, in public, had drained her. She felt like someone had opened the tap and let out every last bit of fighting spirit that she possessed. She was _exhausted._

Van wiped her face again, smearing the dust mixed with leftover tears onto her sleeve. She pushed herself from the door, weakly, moving to put away her rifle. She was kicking off her shoes when someone knocked on the door.

"Not decent," she called, grunting with effort to pull the slightly damp― _still?_ she thought incredulously―boots from her feet. She was gonna get a rash or something, wearing urine-soaked boots for so long.

"Got a question, _jefe,"_ Raul drawled, through the door.

Van sniffled, sucking snot up into her head. "It can wait," she muttered to herself, then repeated it louder for his benefit.

"I'm an old man," he answered, in that irritatingly calm manner he had. "I could drop dead any time. You'd like that?"

Van rolled her eyes, but dropped her boot to the floor and walked across the room. She jerked the door open and stared at the ghoul, not because she wanted to talk to him but because he would pester her constantly if she didn't at least answer him. "What do you want, Raul?"

"You in trouble?" Raul asked, very quietly. He gave her a soft smile. It was _unnerving,_ actually. Van blinked at him, taken aback by the sudden show of emotion on his face. She'd never seen him look quite like that... his words sunk into her tired brain and she boggled even more.

"What?" she answered, lowering her own voice in reply to his. "What trouble?"

Raul moved, reaching out a half-melted, half gnarled hand and grabbing the edge of the door just above where she'd laid her own hand. _"¿El oso y el oposum?_ You fighting?"

Van was even more confused. "What is an _'oposum'?"_ she asked, screwing up her face.

Raul pulled the door from her grasp, shutting it noiselessly and jerking a thumb over his shoulder. "You get into a fight with the bear?" he asked, bluntly, his voice more sharp and sounding much more dangerous than she'd ever heard.

"God, no." Van shook her head at him. "Why would I fight with Boone? I mean..." her voice trailed off.

Now that she thought about it, she wasn't sure _what_ had happened. It wasn't a fight, but... felt like Boone had tried to scare her? Or was he trying to get an answer from her about why she was scared? She didn't know. Right now, she didn't _care._ Just wanted to change her clothes and go eat something―preferably away from the Lucky 38―and forget how embarrassed she'd been.

"No, there wasn't a fight," she answered, definitively.

Raul was staring at her with a decidedly unpleasant look on his face. "But you were crying?" he said, lifting a mangled hand to her face and wiping away the moisture.

She wasn't proud of how she flinched away from his touch, even if was out of character for him. Van's eyes got wide, her mouth falling into an unsure half-frown, staring at Raul and not blinking.

Neither one of them said anything, for a long time. Finally, Van opened the door to the bedroom and walked out, her chin trembling, and locked herself into the bathroom.


End file.
